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HYMNS. 


HARRIET   MCEWEN   KIMBALL. 


BOSTON: 

E.    P.    DUTTON   AND   COMPANY 

'.VS,  WASHINGTON  STREET. 
1866. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1866,  by 

E.   P.   DTTTTON  AND  COMPANY, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts 


CAMBRIDftK  : 
OF    JOHN   WTLBON    AND 


I. 

PAGE 

JESUS  !   THE  LADDER  OF  MY  FAITH 7 

VIA  DOLOROSA 9 

MY  KNOWLEDGE n 

A  HYMN  OF  CONFESSION 13 

THE  PEARL  OF  GREAT  PRICE 15 

THE  OFFERING 17 

HYMNS  FOR  GOOD  FRIDAY  :  — 

I.  —  FORSAKEN 24 

II.  —  FATHER,  FORGIVE  THEM 26 

HYMN  FOR  THE  HOLY  COMMUNION 28 

THE  REBUKE 30 

JESUS,  TAKE  MY  SlNS  AWAY .32 

RETURN 34 

PRAYING  IN  SPIRIT 36 

TRUST ....  38 

THE  Two  CITIES 40 

DOUBT 43 

HUMBLE  SERVICE 46 

in 


10.359" 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

MY  FIELD 48 

A  HARVEST  HYMN 50 

THE  BELL  IN  THE  TOWER      .     .     .     .  _ 53 

THE  WORLDLING t;6 

THE  RIVER 60 

ALL'S  WELL .62 


II. 

THE  GUEST 67 

THE  BELOVED  TEACHER 69 

CHARLIE 72 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  CHILD 78 

"RED,  WHITE,  AND  BLUE" So 

AFTER  THE  STORM 82 


iv 


I. 


HYMNS. 


r 


JESUS  !     THE    LADDER    OF    MY    FAITH. 


ESUS  !  the  ladder  of  my  faith 

Rests  on  the  jasper  walls  of  Heaven  ; 
And  through  the  veiling  clouds  I  catch 
Faint  visions  of  the  mystic  Seven  ! 


The  glory  of  the  rainbowed  Throne 

Illumes  those  clouds  like  lambent  flame  ; 

As  once,  on  Earth,  Thy  love  divine 

Burned  thro'  the  robes  of  human  shame. 

7 


HYMNS. 

Thou  art  the  same,  O  gracious  Lord  ! 

The  same  dear  Christ  that  Thou  wert  then  ; 
And  all  the  praises  angels  sing 

Delight  Thee  less  than  prayers  of  men  ! 

We  have  no  tears  Thou  wilt  not  dry  ; 

We  have  no  wounds  Thou  wilt  not  heal ; 
No  sorrows  pierce  our  human  hearts 

That  Thou,  dear  Saviour  !  dost  not  feel. 

Thy  pitv,  like  the  dew,  distils ; 

And  Thy  compassion,  like  the  light, 
Our  every  morning  overfills, 

And  crowns  with  stars  our  every  night. 

Let  not  the  world's  rude  conflict  drown 
The  charmed  music  of  Thy  Voice, 

That  calls  all  weary  ones  to  rest, 

And  bids  all  mourning  souls  rejoice  ! 


VIA    DOLOROSA. 


"In  the  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation."  —  ST.  JOHN  xvi.  33. 


Y  Saviour  said  :  "  Take  up  thy  cross 

And  follow  me  where  I  may  lead ; 
Count  every  earthly  treasure  dross, 
And,  losing,  find  thy  life  indeed." 


I  raised  my  burden  ;  it  was  light : 
Alas  !  how  heavy  it  has  grown  ! 

O  toilsome  way  !  O  cruel  height ! 
Lord,  can  I  bear  my  cross  alone? 

My  foes,  unnumbered  and  unseen, 
Press  madly  round  me  day  and  night; 


HYMNS. 

I  have  no  friend  on  whom  to  lean  ; 
I  sink  in  sorrow  and  affright ! 

O  blessed  Voice  !  .  .  .  I  hear  Him  say  : 
"  Lo,  I  am  with  thee  till  the  end  ; 

Thy  strength  shall  fail  not  through  thy  day, 
And  I  am  thy  Eternal  Friend." 

The  burdens  of  the  world  He  bore, 

And  shall  I  shrink  from  bearing  mine? 

Alone  He  walked  in  anguish  sore, 
But  me  upholds  with  love  divine. 

His  grace  can  smooth  the  roughest  road  ; 

The  way  He  hallowed  I  will  take : 
How  heavy,  yet  how  light  the  load 

That  I  must  bear  for  His  dear  sake ! 

Through  tribulation  though  He  lead, 

He  maketh  self-denial  sweet ; 
My  life  I  lose  each  day  indeed 

To  find  it  at  my  Saviour's  feet ! 

10 


MY    KNOWLEDGE. 


] HOUGH  men  confront  the  living  God 

With  wisdom  than  His  Word  more  wise, 


s*~     And  leaving  paths  apostles  trod 


Their  own  devise ; 
I  would  myself  forsake  and  flee, 
O  Christ,  the  living  Way,  to  Thee  ! 


I  know  not  what  the  schools  may  teach, 
Nor  yet  how  far  from  truth  depart ; 

One  lesson  is  within  my  reach  — 
The  Truth  Thou  art : 


HYMNS. 

And  learning  this,  I  learn  each  day 
To  cast  all  other  lore  away. 

I  cannot  solve  mysterious  things, 

That  fill  the  schoolmen's  thoughts  with  strife  ; 
But  oh  !  what  peace  this  knowledge  brings, 

Thou  art  the  Life  ; 
Hid  in  Thy  everlasting  deeps, 
The  silent  God  His  secret  keeps. 

The  Way,  the  Truth,  the  Life  Thou  art ! 

This,  this  I  know  ;  to  this  I  cleave  ; 
The  sweet  new  language  of  my  heart  — 

"  Lord,  I  believe  :  " 
I  have  no  doubt  to  bring  to  Thee  ; 
My  doubt  has  fled,  my  faith  is  free  ! 


A    HYMN    OF    CONFESSION. 


EAR  Lord  !  to  Thee  alone  I  dare 
The  record  of  my  sins  repeat ; 
Thou  knowest  all  before  my  prayer 
Is  breathed  in  sorrow  at  Thy  feet. 


My  newest  griefs  to  Thee  are  old ; 

My  last  transgression  of  Thy  law, 
Though  wrapped  in  thought's  most  secret  fold, 

Thine  eyes  with  pitying  sadness  saw. 

13 


\ 


HYMNS. 

Not  Thine  Omniscience,  but  Thy  grace 

Leads  me  to  seek  Thee  day  and  night, 
When  I  should  shrink  from  human  face, 

Were  this  frail  heart  in  human  sight- 
Hope  that  Thy  love  will  hide  my  shame 

With  pardon  tender,  full,  and  sweet, 
Bestowed  when  asked  in  Jesus'  name,  — 

This  bows  me,  Father  !  at  Thy  feet. 


H 


THE  PEARL  OF  GREAT  PRICE. 


HERE  is  a  wondrous  pearl  whose  price 

No  angel's  tongue  could  name  ; 
It  was  not  from  the  Persian  Gulf 
This  lustrous  treasure  came  : 


Not  from  the  Coromandel  coast, 

Nor  yet  from  any  sea 
That  laves  the  shores  of  any  lands, 

Or  pearl-famed  isles  that  be. 


HYMNS. 

This  gem  from  depths  of  Love  Divine 
The  Heavenly  Bridegroom  brought, 

A  marriage-token  to  the  Bride 
His  Cross  and  Passion  bought. 

Earth's  rarest  pearls  are  dross  beside 

This  "jewel  of  the  just," 
Whose  beauty  Time  can  never  dim 

Nor  crumble  into  dust. 

When  Heaven  shall  make  the  marriage-feast. 

In  dazzling  raiment  drest, 
The  Bride  will  meet  the  Lord  of  Life  — 

His  love-gift  on  her  breast. 

Its  peerless  light  shall  evermore 

Her  songs  of  praise  inspire, 
While  "  Holy,  Holy,  Holy  Lord," 

Peals  from  the  Heavenly  choir  ! 


16 


THE     OFFERING. 


"What  shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord  for  all  His  bt.nefits  to 
wards  me?"  —  Ps.  rxvi.  12. 

"  In  every  place  incense  shall  be  offered  unto  My  Name,  and  a 
pure  offering."  —  MAL.  i.  n. 

"  The  sacrifices  of  God  are  a  broken  spirit :  a  broken  and  con 
trite  heart,  O  God,  Thou  wilt  not  despise."  —  Ps.  li.  17. 


AVIOUR,  is  there  any  thing 

I  have  failed  to  bring? 
Lies  my  offering  at  Thy  feet 
Incomplete? 


Lord,  bethink  Thee,  I  am  poor ; 
Slender  is  my  store  ; 

B  17 


HYMNS. 

Yea,  my  best  is  nothing  worth 
Even  on  earth ; 

Even  to  men :  O  then  how  small 

To  the  Lord  of  all, 
Who,  creating  worlds  anew, 
As  the  dew 

Sweeps  them  lightly  from  their  place 

In  the  fields  of  space ; 
Counts  the  Universe  as  nought 
But  a  thought ! 

Yet  since  Thou  hast  deigned  to  ask, 

0  how  sweet  the  task 
(Though  the  gift  be  poor),  to  bring 

Every  thing ! 

Every  thing?     Alas,  this  fear! 

1  may  yet  appear 
Holding  some  dear  bauble  fast 

At  the  last. 
18 


HYMNS. 

Saviour,  is  there  any  thing 

I  have  failed  to  bring? 
Lies  my  offering  incomplete 
At  Thy  feet? 

Answered  He  :  "  If  thou  hast  brought, 

Clothing  every  thought, 
Love  to  God  and  love  to  man 
As  men  can ; 

"  Charity  for  all  who  stray 

From  the  narrow  way ; 
Eager  hands  to  draw  them  back, 
And  point  the  track  ; 

"  Gifts  according  to  thy  store 

For  the  needy  poor ; 
In  my  suffering  ones  dost  see 
Even  me ; 

"  If  thy  tears  are  swift  to  flow 
For  thy  brother's  woe  ; 

'9 


HYMNS. 

Having  strength,  if  thou  dost  seek 
To  raise  the  weak ; 

"  If  thou  dost  My  mercy  show 

Even  to  thy  foe  ; 
Grant  the  pardon  proffered  thee, 
Full  and  free  ; 

"  Yea,  if  thou  thy  will  hast  brought 

Crossing  Mine  in  nought ; 
Faith  that  shall  outlast  thy  breath, 
Strong  in  death  ; 

"  Matters  not  thy  world's  estate, 

Be  it  small  or  great ; 
This  thy  offering  thou  dost  bring 
Every  thing!" 

Nay,  my  Lord,  my  Lord  !  I  cried  ; 

I  am  sorely  tried  ; 
Nothing,  nothing  have  I  brought 
That  I  ought ! 

20 


HYMNS. 

Cold  my  love  to  Thee,  Most  High  ; 

Cold  my  chanty ! 
Idle  hands  and  heart  of  stone 
Are  my  own. 

Mine  an  unsubdued  will ; 
Faith  that  gropeth  still ; 
Yet,  O  God  my  Righteousness, 
Bless,  O  bless ! 

This  at  least  to  Thee  I  bring  — 

Meek  petitioning ; 
Humble  penitence  and  pain  ;  — 
Is  it  vain?  — 

Strong  desire  to  serve  Thee  more 

Than  I  have  before  ; 
And  in  Thy  suffering  ones  to  see 
Even  Thee ! 

Now  indeed  my  tears  do  flow 
For  all  others'  woe, 

21 


HYMNS. 

Tasting  grief  that  doth  surpass 
All,  alas ! 

Hear  me,  Lord  of  earth  and  sky ! 

At  Thy  feet  I  lie  ; 
My  confessions  all  I  bring  — 
Every  thing ! 

Pitying  Lord,  wilt  Thou  despise 

This  my  sacrifice? 
Tell  me,  Saviour,  do  I  bring 
Any  thing? 

Answered  He  :  "  At  last,  at  last 

Is  thy  pride  o'erpast ! 
Little  is  thy  best,  indeed  ; 
Great  thy  need. 

"  Yet,  beloved  of  my  Heart, 

I  for  thee  did  smart ; 
On  the  Cross  in  thy  dear  stead 
Bowed  My  Head  : 


HYMNS. 

"  Through  death's  sharpest,  sorest  throes 

I  triumphant  rose, 
Even  that  thou  mightest  be 
Raised  with  Me. 

"  Is  My  love  for  thee  grown  less 

That  I  should  not  bless ; 
Or  the  lowliest  sacrifice 
Should  despise? 

"  Nay  ;  but  I  am  satisfied, 

Having  all  beside 
Since  that  erring  heart  of  thine, 
On  My  shrine, 

"Broken,  contrite,  suppliant  lies  — 

Sweetest  sacrifice ! 
In  that  offering  thou  dost  bring 
EVERY  THING  ! " 


HYMNS    FOR    GOOD    FRIDAY. 


I. 


FORSAKEN. 

"  He  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  . 
stripes  we  are  healed."  —  Is.  xliii.  5. 


.  and  with  his 


N  anguish  mortal  could  not  bear 

Lo,  on  the  cross  Immanuel  dies  ! 
Crowned  with  the  thorns  of  sacrifice 
He  drains  the  cup  of  Earth's  despair. 


Within  Gethsemane's  sacred  shade 

The  angel  stood  a  little  space 

While,  with  the  blood-sweat  on  His  face, 
The  Man  of  Sorrows  prostrate  prayed. 

24 


HYMNS. 

No  more  —  the  angel  comes  no  more  ! 
In  silence  bowed  before  the  Throne 
His  hosts  attend  His  dying  moan 

Withdrawn  from  Him  whom  they  adore. 

"  Forsaken,  O  my  God  !  "  He  cries  ; 

That  cry  the  temple's  vail  hath  rent ; 

The  heavens  in  awful  stillness  bent 
Are  darkened  with  the  death  He  dies ! 

The  horror-stricken  universe, 
Like  a  vast  sea  in  wild  unrest 
Transfixed  with  wide  upheaving  breast, 

Feels  the  slow-lifting  of  the  curse. 

Hark  !  while  His  dumb  wounds  intercede 
For  man  who  led  his  Lord  to  die, 
There  comes  an  answering,  human  cry : 

"  This  was  the  Son  of  God,  indeed  !  " 

The  Christ !  the  Christ !     Rejecting  Earth, 
In  vain  for  thee  a  second  flood ; 
Yet  in  the  washing  of  His  blood 

Thy  children  find  a  second  birth ! 

25 


HYMNS. 

Flee,  frail  and  trembling  heart  of  mine, 
To  Him  thy  Refuge  and  thy  Strength  ! 
The  solemn  shadows  lift  at  length 

And  even  Sinai's  summits  shine  : 

Shine  in  the  glorious  beams  that  break 
Around  the  Cross  of  Him  who  saith  : 
"  I  have  redeemed  thy  soul  from  death  ; 

Forsaken,  I  will  ne'er  forsake  !  " 


II. 
"FATHER,    FORGIVE    THEM." 


|  SAD,  reproachful  Face, 

How  can  I  look  and  live  ! 
O  pierced  Hands  outstretched  to  save  ! 
O  Voice  that  pleads  "  Forgive  !  " 


"  Forgive  !  "  though  crowned  with  thorns, 

And  mocked  with  many  a  jeer  ; 
26 


HYMNS. 

"  Forgive  !  "  though  tortured  by  the  nails, 
And  wounded  by  the  spear. 

O  crimson  tide  of  love 

Out-gushing  from  His  side, 
Flow  down,  and  wash  the  guilty  earth 

Where  He  is  still  denied  ! 

In  penitence  my  soul 

Takes  up  that  cry,  "  Forgive  !  " 
Flow  down,  and  wash  away  my  sins 
That  I  may  look  and  live  ! 


HYMN  FOR  THE  HOLY  COMMUNION. 


T  this  Thy  banquet,  Lord  of  all, 


May  less  than  angel  dare  to  sup? 
The  crumbs  that  from  Thy  Table  fall 
Unworthy  we  to  gather  up. 


Yet  oh  !  too  poor  to  turn  away, 

Too  glad  to  own  Thy  gracious  claim, 

We  stay  because  Thou  bid'st  us  stay, 
Despite  our  garb  of  want  and  shame. 

28 


HYMNS. 

Before  Thine  Altar  kneeling  low 
We  bare  our  sinful  hands  to  Thine ; 

O  Holy  Lord,  Thy  pity  show, 

And  cleanse  us  with  Thy  touch  divine  ! 

Fill  Thou  these  empty  palms  with  food  — 
The  Bread  Thou  broughtest  from  above  ; 

This  cup  with  Thy  most  precious  Blood  — 
The  wine  of  Thy  atoning  Love  ! 

The  hunger  and  the  thirst  we  plead 
No  meaner  feast  could  satisfy  ; 

O  Saviour,  in  our  utter  need 

Thou,  Thou  must  feed  us,  or  we  die  ! 


29 


THE     REBUKE. 


HEARD,  and  disobeyed  ! 

Thy  judgment-hand,  O  God, 
Uplifted,  smote  me  to  the  earth 
In  the  dark  way  I  trod. 


Low-lying  in  the  dust, 
Broken  by  Thy  reproof, 

I  said,  "  His  mercy  I  have  lost ; 
Wrath  holdeth  Love  aloof." 


HYMNS. 

Humbly  I  wept  and  prayed  — 

No  more  by  sin  enticed  ; 
Then,  lifting  up  my  streaming  eyes, 

Beheld  the  wounded  Christ. 

Lo  !  in  His  bleeding  hands 
Love's  richest  pledge  I  see  ; 

And  mercy's  sweetest  message  falls 
From  His  dear  lips  for  me. 

O  just  and  holy  God  ! 

Thy  wrath  I  read  amiss : 
The  love  that  follows  Thy  rebuke  — 

Was  ever  love  like  this? 


\f         ^.      S       f—^9 

? 


JESUS,    TAKE    MY    SINS    AWAY. 


OLY  One  !  whose  heavenly  splendor 
Faith  doth  shadow  forth  in  visions, 
Through  the  homage  angels  render, 
Hearken  to  my  poor  petitions  ! 

Night  and  day, 

Hear  me  crying,  hear  me  crying, 
"Jesus,  take  my  sins  away  !  " 


All  the  story  Love  hath  written 
In  Thy  blood  for  Earth  to  ponder, 

I  have  read,  and  read,  till  smitten 
With  belief  too  rapt  for  wonder. 

32 


HYMNS. 

Night  and  day 

Hear  me  crying,  hear  me  crying, 
"Jesus  take  my  sins  away !  " 

Bruised  and  bleeding  'neath  the  burden 
Of  my  manifold  transgressions  ; 

Clinging  to  Thy  Cross  for  pardon 
While  I  stammer  my  confessions  ; 
Night  and  day, 

Hear  me  crying,  hear  me  crying, 
"Jesus,  take  my  sins  away  !  " 


33 


RETURN. 


ETURN,  O  wanderer  from  the  fold,  — 

The  Heavenly  Shepherd's  loving  keep  ! 
With  grief,  no  language  ever  told, 
He  mourns  thee,  numbering  o'er  His  sheep, 
And  all  the  blessed  angels  weep. 

All  day  He  waits  with  yearning  face  ; 
His  weary  eyes  no  slumber  take  ; 

But  when  the  night  steals  on  apace, 
His  feet  the  sheltered  flock  forsake,  — 
Through  thorns  their  bleeding  way  they  make. 
34 


HYMNS. 

Those  feet  the  highest  Heights  have  trod  ; 
That  head  the  Crown  of  crowns  possessed ; 

He  left  the  blazing  Throne  of  God, 
And  humbly  as  a  shepherd  dressed 
For  thee  resigned  his  ancient  rest. 

In  all  the  dark  no  ray  is  seen ; 

His  anguished  face  alone  appears  ; 

No  answer  breaks  the  hush  between 
Those  calls  that  reach  angelic  ears, 
And  move  the  pitying  heaven  to  tears. 

O  Holy  Shepherd  !  not  in  vain 

Thy  care,  Thy  sorrowing  search  shall  be ! 

The  wandering  soul  that  wrought  Thy  pain, 
Must  hear,  must  heed,  must  haste  to  Thee, 
No  more  Thy  fold  of  love  to  flee ! 


35 


PRAYING    IN    SPIRIT. 


"  But  thou,  when  thou  prayest,  enter  into  thy  closet,  and  when 
thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to  thy  Father  which  is  in  secret."  — 
ST.  MATT.  vi.  6. 


NEED  not  leave  the  jostling  world, 

Or  wait  till  daily  tasks  are  o'er, 
To  fold  my  palms  in  secret  prayer 
Within  the  close-shut  closet  door. 


There  is  a  viewless,  cloistered  room, 
As  high  as  heaven,  as  fair  as  day, 

Where,  though  my  feet  may  join  the  throng, 
My  soul  can  enter  in  and  pray. 
36 


HYMNS. 

When  I  have  banished  wayward  thoughts, 
Of  sinful  works  the  fruitful  seed, 

When  folly  wins  my  ear  no  more, 
The  closet  door  is  shut,  indeed. 

No  human  step  approaching1,  breaks 
The  blissful  silence  of  the  place  ; 

No  shadow  steals  across  the  light 
That  falls  from  my  Redeemer's  face  ! 

And  never  through  those  crystal  walls 
The  clash  of  life  can  pierce  its  way, 

Nor  ever  can  a  human  ear 

Drink  in  the  spirit-words  I  say. 

One  hearkening,  even,  cannot  know 
When  I  have  crossed  the  threshold  o'er, 

For  He,  alone,  who  hears  my  prayer, 
Has  heard  the  shutting  of  the  door ! 


37 


TRUST. 


O  Him  who  hears,  I  whisper  all ; 

And  softlier  than  the  dews  of  heaven 
The  tears  of  Christ's  compassion  fall : 
I  know  I  am  forgiven  ! 


Wrapt  in  the  peace  that  follows  prayer 

I  fold  my  hands  in  perfect  trust, 
Forgetful  of  the  ci'oss  I  bear 

Through  noonday  heat  and  dust. 
38 


HYMNS. 

No  more  Life's  mysteries  vex  my  thought ; 

No  cruel  doubts  disturb  my  breast ; 
My  heavy-laden  spirit  sought 

And  found  the  promised  rest. 


39 


THE    TWO    CITIES. 


N  the  dusky  shores  of  evening,  stretched  in 

shining  peace  it  lies, 

City  built  of  clouds  and  sunshine  —  wonder 
of  the  western  skies ! 


While  I  watch,  and  long  for  pinions  thitherward  to  take 

my  flight, 
Slowly  the  aerial  city  fades  and  vanishes  from  sight. 

Ruby  dome,  and  silver  temple,  circling  wall  of  amethyst, 
Fall  in  silence,  leaving  only  purple  ruin  hung  with  mist. 
40 


HYMNS. 

Darkness  gathers  eastward,  westward ;  stronger  waxeth 

my  desire, 
Reaching  through  celestial  spaces,  glittering  as  with  rain 

of  fire, 

To  the  City  set  in  jasper,  having  twelve  foundations  fair, 
Flashing  from  their  jewelled  splendor  every  color  soft 
and  rare. 

Twelve  in  number  are  its  gateways  —  numbered  by  the 

Seer  of  old  — 
Every  gate  a  pearl  most  lustrous ;    and  its  streets  are 

paved  with  gold. 

In  the  midst,  in  dazzling  whiteness,  lightens  the  Eternal 

Throne ; 
From  it  flows  the  Living  Water  —  round  it  gleams  an 

emerald  zone. 

Luscious   fruits,  and   balmy  odors,   healing   leaves,  and 

cooling  shade, 
Either  side  the  Life-tree  sheddeth,  by  sweet  storms  of 

music  swayed. 


HYMNS. 

O  thou  grand,  untempled  City,  seen  by  John  in  visions 

bright, 
Glory-flooded,  needing  neither  sun  by  day  nor  moon  by 

night ; 

Filled  forever  and  forever  by  the  shining  light  of  Him 
Who  redeemed  the  world,  and  sitteth  throned  between 
the  Seraphim  ! 

Through  thy  lovely  gates  the  nations  of  the  saved  in  tri 
umph  stream, 

Chanting  praise  above  all  praises—  love  of  love  their 
holy  theme  ! 

They  no  more  shall  thirst,  or  hunger  ;  they  no  more  with 

heat  shall  faint ; 
Christ  for  tears  will  give  them  gladness  —  blissful  rest  for 

sore  complaint. 

Blessed  they  who  do  His  bidding !  cries  the  Angel,  day 

and  night ; 
They  shall  find  abundant  entrance  —  they  shall  walk  with 

Him  in  white  ' 
42 


DOUBT. 


Y  heart  is  heavy  at  her  prayers : 

"  God  may  bow  down,"  she  saith,  "  and 

hear." 
Her  doubt  ascending  unawares 

Methinks  must  grieve  His  patient  ear ! 


His  promise  faileth  not,  I  know ; 

And  I  have  learned  it  line  by  line ; 
Then,  if  believing,  why  so  slow 

Am  I  to  make  that  promise  mine? 

43 


HYMNS. 

Not  thus  the  barren  Earth  receives 
The  sweet  assurance  of  the  Spring, 

But  putting  on  her  robe  of  leaves 

i 

In  perfect  trust  begins  to  sing. 

The  April  pledge  of  sun  and  shower 
She  knows  the  Summer  will  fulfil, 

Nor  fail  to  spread  her  golden  dower 
In  waving  wealth  from  hill  to  hill. 

And  I  —  I  know  that  He  who  sends 

The  ripening  heat,  the  strengthening  rain, 

My  lightest  breath  of  prayer  attends, 
Nor  shall  I  find  His  promise  vain. 

Dear  Lord,  whose  love  doth  over-brood 
My  faith  though  cold  and  faint  it  be, 

Dispel  this  doubt  that  dares  intrude 

Between  my  sorrowing  heart  and  Thee  ! 

Dispel  this  doubt,  Thou  Heavenly  Sun  ! 
Thou  Spirit  sweeter  than  the  Spring  ! 
44 


HYMNS. 

Then  shall  my  drooping  faith  put  on 
The  garment  of  Thy  praise  and  sing : 

To  Him  whose  Word  shall  time  outrun 
To  Him  whose  Blood  the  promise  seals, 

And  to  the  Spirit,  Three  in  One, 
My  song  shall  rise  in  grateful  peals  ! 


45 


HUMBLE    SERVICE. 


T  is  an  easy  thing  to  say, 

"  Thou  knowest  that  I  love  Thee,  Lord  !  " 
And  easy  in  the  bitter  fray 

For  His  defence  to  draw  the  sword. 


But  when  at  His  dear  hands  we  seek 

Some  lofty  trust  for  Him  to  keep, 
To  our  ambition  vain  and  weak 

How  strange  His  bidding :  "  Feed  my  sheep." 
46 


HYMNS. 

"  Too  mean  a  task  for  love,"  we  cry  ; 

Remembering  not  if,  in  our  pride, 
We  pass  His  humbler  service  by, 

Our  vows  are  by  our  deeds  denied. 

O  Father !  help  us  to  resign 

Our  hearts,  our  strength,  our  wills  to  Thee  ; 
Then  even  lowliest  work  of  Thine 

Most  noble,  blest,  and  sweet  will  be  ! 


47 


MY    FIELD. 


WILL  not  wrong  thee,  O  To-day, 
With  idle  longing  for  To-morrow  ; 

But  patient  plough  my  field,  and  sow 
The  seed  of  faith  in  every  furrow. 


Enough  for  me  the  loving  light 

That  melts  the  cloud's  repellent  edges  ; 
The  still  unfolding,  bud  by  bud, 

Of  God's  most  sweet  and  holy  pledges. 
48 


HYMNS. 

I  breathe  His  breath  ;  my  life  is  His ; 

The  hand  He  nerves  knows  no  defrauding, 
The  Lord  will  make  this  joyless  waste 

Wave  with  the  wheat  of  His  rewarding. 

Of  His  rewarding  !     Yes  ;  and  yet 
Not  mine  a  single  blade  or  kernel ; 

The  seed  is  His  ;  the  quickening  His  ; 
The  care,  unchanging  and  eternal. 

His,  too,  the  harvest  song  shall  be, 

When  He  who  blest  the  barren  furrow 

Shall  thrust  His  shining  sickle  in, 

And  reap  my  little  field  To-morrow.  ' 


49 


A    HARVEST    HYMN. 


Written  for  the  Amesbury  and  Salisbitry  Agricultural  Exhibition, 
Sept.  17,  1860. 


HAPPY  day,  returned  once  more, 
With  golden  plenty  still  replete  ! 

As  though  she  never  gave  before, 

Earth  pours  her  treasures  at  our  feet ! 


And  ne'er  did  ruddier  fruit  fulfil 

The  rosy  prophecies  of  May  ; 
Ne'er  did  the  rugged  lands  we  till 

Yield  sweeter  corn,  or  flowers  more  gay. 

.so 


HYMNS. 

Not  one  among  the  many  here 

Who  prune  the  tree,  or  plough  the  soil, 
But  has  some  share  in  Nature's  cheer  — 

Some  liberal  recompense  for  toil. 

Yet  none  his  choicest  stores  may  boast 
Of  flowers,  or  fruits,  or  garnered  grain  ; 

For  labor  of  his  hands  were  lost, 
Unblest  by  heaven's  refreshing  rain. 

O,  thanks  to  God  !  whose  love  abides, 
And  scatters  bounties  everywhere  ; 

Who  in  the  heart  of  Nature  hides 
The  germ  of  His  unfailing  care. 

More  rich  than  Autumn's  robe  of  leaves 
Should  be  the  garments  of  our  praise  ; 

And  ampler  than  her  ample  sheaves 
The  charities  that  crown  our  days. 

More  fragrant  than  the  meadow's  breath 
The  incense  of  our  souls  should  rise, 


HYMNS. 

From  Life's  rude  altars  wreathed  by  Faith 
With  borrowed  bloom  from  Paradise. 

O,  clearly,  then,  could  we  behold 

In  flowers  that  fade,  and  fruits  that  fall, 

Sweet  hints,  which  earthly  gifts  enfold, 
Of  treasure  stored  in  Heaven  for  all ! 


THE    BELL    IN    THE    TOWER. 


HEAR  the  bell  in  the  high  church-tower, 

Striking  the  hour ; 
The  hushed  Night  hearkens,  like   one  who 

stands 
In  sudden  awe,  with  uplifted  hands ! 


A  Spirit  up  in  the  tower  doth  dwell, 

And  when  the  bell 

Peals  out  the  hours,  with  a  measured  chime, 
I  hear  him  turning  the  sands  of  time  ! 

53 


HYMNS. 

He  says  :  "  Life  dieth  with  every  breath  !  " 

Whispers  of  Death  : 
"  It  is  the  fall  of  the  flower  of  Earth  ; 
The  promise-seed  of  immortal  birth  !  " 

He  speaks  to  the  striving  world  below : 

"  Why  do  ye  so? 

Will  all  the  treasure  that  hand  can  hold 
Buy  sweeter  sleep  in  the  church-yard  mould  ? 

"  Behold  one  God,  over  great  and  small, 

Judgeth  ye  all ! 

Ask  Him  for  grace  in  the  morning  light, 
And  pray  for  pardon  and  peace  at  night ! " 

O,  while  I  listen  my  whole  soul  bows, 

Paying  her  vows ; 
And  folly  fleeth  with  sinful  fear, 
As  those  clear  bell-strokes  fall  on  my  ear  ! 

For  not  more  solemn  the  holy  chimes, 

In  other  times, 
54 


HYMNS. 

That  helped  the  faithful  to  pray  aright, 
And  put  the  spirits  of  air  to  flight ! 

And  ever  —  ever  would  I  be  near, 

Daily  to  hear  — 

Daily  and  nightly,  in  work  or  rest, 
The  Voice  that  pierces  and  soothes  my  breast ! 


55 


THE    WORLDLING. 


HE  bluest  skies,  the  softest  airs, 

The  sweetest  odors  fill  the  day, 
And  morning  lays  her  loveliest  snares 
To  lure  the  worldling  on  his  way. 


Here  from  ten  thousand  flickering  leaves 
Her  breezy  fingers  shake  the  dew, 

The  while  a  shadow-net  she  weaves, 

Large  flakes  of  splendor  sifting  through. 
56 


HYMNS. 

The  sweeping  fields  are  starred  with  gold — 
Bright  glimpse  of  Nature's  garnered  wealth ; 

And  there  the  sweet  brier's  buds  unfold 
To  take  his  heedless  heart  by  stealth. 

There  deftly  stretched  on  grassy  spears 
The  spider's  curious  web  outlies  ; 

A  marvel  hung  with  heaven's  own  tears, 
It  catches  not  his  roving  eyes. 

Amid  the  elm-tree's  feathery  spray 

The  tireless  robin  whistles  clear, 
And  from  the  woods  that  skirt  the  way 

With  verdure  constant  all  the  year  — 

Hark  !  —  deep  within  their  deepest  hush, 
Divinely  calm,  and  rapture-sweet, 

The  singing  of  the  Hermit-thrush 
Fills  and  o'erflows  his  blest  retreat. 

On  glancing  wings  the  butterfly 

Hints  how  the  soul  new-born  to  bliss, 

57 


HYMNS. 

For  the  wide  freedom  of  the  sky 
Forsakes  her  narrow  chrysalis. 

He  does  not  hear,  he  does  not  see  — 

The  worldling  wrapt  in  worldly  schemes  ; 

What  wonder  then  that  such  as  he 

Count  faith's  most  glorious  visions,  dreams  ! 

If  all  that  he  might  see  and  touch 
Be  lost  upon  his  grovelling  soul  — 

If  Nature's  little  be  too  much, 

Can  he  receive  the  sacred  Whole? 

Stay  !  lest  our  judgment  set  a  bound 
For  Him  who  notes  the  sparrow's  fall, 

Who  in  a  loving,  endless  round 
Of  benefactions  cares  for  all. 

He  in  the  form  of  man  restored 

The  blind,  the  deaf,  the  dumb  of  old  ; 

As  then  men  cry,  "  Have  mercy,  Lord  !  " 
Still  clinging  to  His  garments'  fold. 
58 


HYMNS. 

Nor  these  alone  He  patient  heeds, 
But  still  the  stubborn  knee  he  bends ; 

Still  gently  answering  all  their  needs 
Wins  foe  and  stranger  for  His  friends. 

Pass  on,  poor  worldling !  unaware 
That,  self-rebuked  for  judging  thee, 

I  track  thee  with  a  silent  prayer 

To  Him  who  gave  my  sight  to  me :  — 

Reveal  Thyself,  O  Christ  the  Whole, 
And  Nature's  Part  shall  glorious  shine  ; 

Flash  all  Thy  beauty  on  his  soul  — 
Thy  beauty  is  indeed  divine  ! 

Reveal  Thyself,  O  Lovely  One, 

And  he  shall  count  Creation  nought 

But  the  fair  robe  Thou  puttest  on  — 
A  robe  of  light  with  wonders  wrought ! 


59 


THE     RIVER. 


BOVE  the  winding  River's  brink 

The  tall  trees  wave  their  branches  green  ; 
Their  cool  brown  roots,  washed  bare   and 
clean, 

Reach  down  through  cooler  depths  to  drink. 


"  Behold,  how  heavenly  is  my  task  !  " 
Methinks  the  River  murmurs  low  ; 
"  As  God  bestoweth,  I  bestow  ; 
To  be  like  Him  is  all  I  ask." 
60 


HYMNS. 

O  River !  thou  and  I  are  one 
In  sweet  desire  to  serve  and  be, 
Yet  every  day  I  grieve  to  see 

How  all  my  deeds  do  self-ward  run ! 


61 


A  L  L'  S    WELL. 


HE  day  is  ended.     Ere  I  sink  to  sleep 

My  weary  spirit  seeks  repose  in  Thine 
Father !  forgive  my  trespasses,  and  keep 
This  little  life  of  mine. 


With  loving  kindness  curtain  Thou  my  bed  ; 
And  cool  in  rest  my  burning  pilgrim-feet ; 
Thy  pardon  be  the  pillow  for  my  head  — 

So  shall  my  sleep  be  sweet. 
62 


HYMNS. 

At  peace  with  all  the  world,  dear  Lord,  and  Thee, 
No  fears  my  soul's  unwavering  faith  can  shake  ; 
All's  well !  whichever  side  the  grave  for  me 
The  morning  light  may  break  ! 


II. 


POEMS    OF    CONSOLATION. 


THE     GUEST. 


"Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door,  and  knock:  if  any  man  hear  my 
voice,  and  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  will  sup  with 
him,  and  he  with  me."  —  REV.  iii.  20. 


PEECHLESS  Sorrow  sat  with  me  ; 
I  was  sighing  wearily  ! 
Lamp  and  fire  were  out :  the  rain 
Wildly  beat  the  window-pane. 
In  the  dark  we  heard  a  knock  ; 
And  a  hand  was  on  the  lock  ; 
One  in  waiting  spake  to  me, 

Saying  sweetly, 
"I am  come  to  sup  with  thee!" 

67 


HYMNS. 

All  my  room  was  dark  and  damp  ; 
"  Sorrow  !  "  said  I,  u  trim  the  lamp  ; 
Light  the  fire,  and  cheer  thy  face  ; 
Set  the  guest-chair  in  its  place." 
And  again  I  heard  the  knock : 
In  the  dark  I  found  the  lock :  — 
"  Enter  !  I  have  turned  the  key  !  — 

Enter,  Stranger ! 
Who  art  come  to  sup  with  me." 

Opening  wide  the  door,  he  came  ; 
But  I  could  not  speak  his  name  : 
In  the  guest-chair  took  his  place  ; 
But  I  could  not  see  his  face  ! 
When  my  cheerful  fire  was  beaming, 
When  my  little  lamp  was  gleaming, 
And  the  feast  was  spread  for  three, 

Lo !  my  MASTER 
Was  the  Guest  that  supped  with  me  ! 


68 


THE  BELOVED  TEACHER. 


THOUGHT  :  what  numbers  press  to  pay 
Their  homage  to  the  good  man's  worth  ; 

And  close,  with  loving,  reverent  hands 

The    grave's    green    entrance  —  earth    to 
earth  I 


Not  they  alone  who  crowd  the  church  — 
A  larger  gathering  flocks  this  way  ; 

A  youthful  train  that  stretches  far 
Down  many  a  joyous  yesterday. 

69 


HYMNS. 

Along  the  line  of  twoscore  years 
In  fair  procession  see  them  throng ! 

And  one  —  the  least  among  them  —  breaks 
The  silence  with  a  sorrowing  song  :  — 

The  home  is  darkened  where  he  dwelt. 
And,  unrestrained  by  roof  or  wall, 

Out-circling  to  a  thousand  more 
That  solemn  darkness  touches  all. 

O  genial,  generous,  faithful  soul, 

Unfaltering  even  to  the  end, 
Thou  hast  "  dismissed"  us  all,  and  dropt 

The  hand  of  pupil  and  of  friend  ! 

Dropt  them  for  that  Most  Blessed  Hand 
Whose  pierced  palm  our  lips  have  prest 

In  love's  allegiance  —  saying  low, 

With  broken  utterance  :   God  knou's  best. 

No  more  wilt  thou  thy  books  unclose, 
Awarding  honest  blame  or  praise  : 
70 


HYMNS. 

The  Holy  Teacher  teaches  us 

From  the  full  volume  of  thy  days. 

Fair  as  the  palm-tree's  fairest  height, 
And  goodly  as  the  cedar's  shade, 

The  memory  of  thy  virtue  fills 

The  void  thy  vanished  life  hath  made. 

One  word  :  Farewell !  a  word  of  peace, 
Across  the  stream  of  death  it  lies ; 

A  bridge,  beyond  whose  slender  arch 
No  sorrow  lives  —  no  dear  hope  dies. 


CHARLIE. 


HARLIE  !  did  the  great  and  Holy  City 
Seem  so  far  —  so  far  beyond  ?  — 
That  thine  eyes  should  turn  to  faces  fond, 
Sad,  with  hopeless  watch,  and  pale, — 
Faces  bowed  in  human  pity  — 
Unavailing,  human  pity  — 
With  that  most  pathetic  wail :  — 
'•'•Many,  many  weary  steps ! " 
72 


HYMNS. 

When  thy  patient  hand  did  cling 

To  the  parent  hand, 
While  thy  footsteps  faltering, 

Neared  the  Promised  Land  ; 
Did'st  thou  learn  how  frail  a  thing 

Is  the  strongest  hand  of  earth? 

Love  that  clasped  thee  at  thy  birth, 

Failed  to  bear  thee  unto  death. 
Sad  complaint !  and  sweet  petition  ! 

Answered  only  by  despair  — 

By  Affection's  dumb  despair  — 
That  o'er-leaned  thy  weak  condition  : 

Weaker  even  than  thy  weakness  ; 

Palsy-stricken  when  thy  breath 

Shaped  these  words  of  mournful  meekness ! 
"Many,  many  weary  steps  !  " 

O  Thou  Most  Compassionate  ! 

Shepherd,  in  Thy  Kingly  State  — 
While  the  "  Holy  !  Holy!  Holy!" 
Ebbs  and  flows  around  thy  feet  — 


73 


HYMNS. 

Rolling  through  the  seraph-throng 
Like  a  mighty  sea  of  song, 

Breaking,  wave  on  wave,  with  roar 
Of  majestic  exultation, 
Of  ecstatic  adoration, 

On  an  ever-listening  shore  !  — 
Thou  dost  bend  Thine  ear 

In  each  thrilling  pause  to  hearken 
To  the  pulses  of  Creation  ;  — 

To  the  wails  that  rend  the  skies  ; 
To  the  praying  of  the  lowly  ; 
To  the  faintest  infant-sighs  ! 

When  the  twilight  shadows  darken 
In  these  barren  wastes  below, 
Where  Thy  flocks  are  wandering  slow, 

Thou  dost  hear  the  young  lambs  bleat ! 
Gentle  Shepherd  !  Thou  dost  see 
Prayerful  eyes  upraised  to  Thee  : 
Holy  Shepherd  !  Thou  dost  heed 
Every  cry  of  grief  or  need. 
Ah  !  more  meek  than  mourner's  face  ; 


74 


HYMNS. 

Wilder  than  Love's  wild  despair ; 
More  impassioned  than  its  prayer ; 
And  more  pitiful  by  far, 
Than  Earth's  selfish  moanings  are, 

Was  that  soft  beseeching  glance  — 
Was  that  plaintive  utterance, 
Drifting  to  Thy  Holy  Place  — 

"Many,  many  weary  steps ! " 

Vain,  indeed,  that  "  human  plaint," 
Poured  into  the  human  ear ! 

Vain  the  arm  of  man  or  saint, 

Stretched  to  raise  the  drooping  child  ! 

Yet,  O  Shepherd  !  Thou  did'st  hear 

Thou  did'st  lift  the  little  stranger  — 

(Stranger  to  that  awful  "  wild") 
In  Thine  Infinite  embrace  ! 

Lifted  him  from  every  danger  ; 

Lifted  him  from  every  woe  ; 

.  While  the  glory  of  Thy  face, 
Touching  it  with  amber  glow, 


75 


HYMNS. 

Made  the  deathful  darkness  seem 
Like  the  dawn  of  heavenly  dream  ! 

Peace  profound,  and  sweet  as  deep, 
With  its  spell  of  silence,  stole 
O'er  the  little  longing  soul  — 

In  Thine  arms  he  fell  asleep ! 

Nevermore  those  feet  shall  weary 

On  the  death-road,  lone  and  dreary  ; 

Nevermore  that  spirit-cry, 

Born  of  mortal  agony, 

As  he  passed  through  life's  eclipse  — 
Shall  escape  those  patient  lips  :  — 
"  Many,  many  weary  steps  !  " 

O  Thou  most  compassionate  ! 
Comfort  them  that  follow  on 
In  the  way  the  child  hath  gone  ! 
Give  them  strength,  dear  Christ !  to  bear 

Every  cross  of  sorrow  ; 
Knowing  that  the  brows  of  Care 

Thou  wilt  crown  to-morrow  ! 
76 


HYMNS. 

Knowing  that.  Thy  pitying  ear, 
Ever  Earth-ward  bent,  will  hear,  — 

When  the  heart  and  flesh  shall  fail, 
In  the  journeying  through  the  night, 
With  Thy  Heaven  almost  in  sight  — 
That  sad,  human,  thrilling  wail :  — 

"  MANY,  MANY  WEARY  STEPS  !  " 


77 


ON    THE    DEATH    OF    A    CHILD. 


N  rest  untroubled  lies  her  fair  young  head  : 

Cold  is  her  shroud  ;  colder  the  heart  below  ! 
No  more  the  feverish  pulses  come  and  go  ; 
The  watchers  are  the  watchers  of  the  dead. 


Sad  eyes  that  saw  her  fade,  are  full  of  tears  ; 

Fond   hands   that   smoothed   her  pillow,    clasped    in 

prayer ; 

And  Love  goes  wailing  in  its  dark  despair, 
Till  the  sweet  dawning  of  God's  grace  appears. 
78 


HYMNS. 

O  blest  the  soul  whose  voice  of  faith  can  say 

In  the  storm-lulls  of  grief —  "  Thy  will  be  clone  !  " 
O  blest  the  soul  that  trusts  the  Holy  One, 

Who  in  His  bosom  bears  His  lambs  away ! 


79 


"RED,    WHITE,    AND    BLUE." 


ED  CYPRESS  !  unto  him  who  grieves, 
Reading  sad  legends  in  thy  leaves, 

And  finding  in  thy  flower 
An  emblem  of  the  heart  that  bleeds, 
Say :  The  red  blossom  which  I  bear 
Doth  symbolize 
The  sacrifice 
Of  that  sublimest  hour 
When  Love  fulfilled  all  human  needs  ; 
Bound  Death,  the  Victor,  as  a  slave  ; 
Flung  wide  the  sealed  gates  of  the  Grave, 

And  set  His  angels,  warders,  there. 
So 


HYMNS. 

WHITE  ROSE  !  to  him  who  gathers  thec 
The  Flower  of  Consolation  be,  — 

Unfolding  pehce,  and  not  despair. 
With  sharpest  thorns  set  round, 

Teach  him  how  Life  may  wear 
Sharp  griefs,  and  yet  be  crowned  ! 

BLUE  HAREBELL  !  that  dost  tremble 
To  the  weird  breath  of  Sorrow, 

Be  to  the  mourning  one  Faith's  symbol ;  — 
Since  them  dost  borrow 
The  same  soft  hue 

Her  eyes  have  won  with  constant  looking  up 

God  filleth  thine  inverted  cup 

With  heaven's  own  blue  ; 

So  shall  His  sweet  assurance  fill 

The  heart  bowed  meekly  to  His  will. 


81 


AFTER    THE    STORM. 


LL  night,  in  the  pauses  of  sleep,  I  heard 

The  moan  of  the  Snow-wind  and  the  Sea, 
Like  the  wail  of  Thy  sorrowing  children,  O 

God! 
Who  cry  unto  Thee. 


But  in  beauty  and  silence  the  morning  broke, 

O'erflowing  creation  the  glad  light  streamed  ; 
And  Earth  stood  shining  and  white  as  the  souls 

Of  the  blessed  redeemed. 
82 


HYMNS. 

O  glorious  marvel  in  darkness  wrought ! 

With  smiles  of  promise  the  blue  sky  bent, 
As  if  to  whisper  to  all  who  mourn, 
Love's  hidden  intent. 


